After completing my inaugural marathon last fall, you may recall I found myself struggling to generate canine-free copy to fill this space. Following months of long runs and speed work and unbridled excitement, this running blogger suddenly found herself out of the running circuit, giving me all the time in the world to write but few topic ideas of substance and even less motivation to flesh them out. After spending one-third of my year training for and blogging about the lead up to the most exciting 3 hours and 51 minutes of my adult life, nothing in my post-marathon lifestyle seemed big enough to document.

Fact: This actually says “bug” if you only consider my arms.

Fast forward to the weeks following the Boston Marathon and suddenly my ramblings seemed more immaterial than ever.

I certainly haven’t meant to disappear from the blogging world these past few weeks. In fact, I’ve been snapping photos left and right in hopes that something would inspire me to re-engage with the online running community. In recent weeks, I raced a 4-miler, spotted Alec Baldwin and finally met (the always lovely) @DCRunsterface to face, but in the wake of Marathon Monday and my subsequent responses, nothing since has felt nearly noteworthy enough to warrant your time or the use of this space.

Hence the radio silence. This is a radio I’m writing on, right? Good, just checking. Technology, amIright?

But the truth is, whether or not I have anything material to say, I miss this (occasionally thought-provoking but more often silly) part of my life. Sure, my recent afternoon with my brother’s goldendoodle may be exponentially less important than Dzhokhar Tsarnaev’s ongoing interrogation, but today it hit me: in the aftermath of last month’s events, my small but loyal community of running blog readers could probably use a little lighthearted triviality right about now.

And what better way than via a pictorial re-enactment of Ludwig Bemelmans’ 1939 classic, Madeline? Bring it on.

Last Sunday, Keira and I smiled at the good.

And frowned at the bad.

And sometimes she was very sad.

Insignificant? Sure. But if if my ability to post the above photo series means that nothing so terrible has transpired that I have to forgo my usual buffoonery and blog about fatalities and terror and heartbreak instead, then that’s fine by me. I’ve learned this month that trivality can be a blessing, and it’s one that this re-awakened blogger is very happy for indeed.